Curfew! If anyone sees her standing out there … that’s it! We’re finished!’
Orlaith had already started ripping down the bed sheet.
‘Hide the plans!’ she cried. ‘Owen, quick – run outside and grab Flossie before it’s too late! Good grief, she could be halfway across the village by now …!’
I stood up. ‘Let’s not panic. Ceri made a mistake – Flossie’s going to be fine. No one’s going to be outside today with weather like this anyway.’
I unbolted the door and swung it open.
‘She’ll probably just be standing in the garden, where no one can …’
I turned round, and screamed. Flossie’s spit-covered face was hovering barely inches away from my nose. I startled backwards. The others looked up at the door, and gasped.
The shelter was filled with a chilling blast of a valley wind. Slowly, and with great pleasure, Miss Pewlish stepped inside. She gripped Flossie in her hands like a priceless treasure, a hideous grin stretched across her face from ear to ear.
‘Well well well,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Look what I found.’
10
A Storm Approaches
Miss Pewlish looked at each of us with a gloating eye. No one said anything. She placed Flossie on the floor.
‘Looking for this?’ she said. ‘I found her wandering outside, eating some flowers. Not that I
normally
give up my weekends to hide in bushes following the Dewbridge girls, but I thought on this particular weekend I’d make an exception.’ She grinned. ‘Just in case I found you lot doing, oh I don’t know … anything you shouldn’t.’
Callum suddenly leapt forwards.
‘Why,
there
she is!’ he said with relief. ‘Flossie, you little scamp! We’ve been looking for her
everywhere
, haven’t we guys?’ He grabbed Flossie and started strolling out the door. ‘Thanks for your help, Victoria.We’ll go back to the house now and …’
‘
SILENCE!
’
Miss Pewlish slammed her fists onto the table, her cheeks quivering. Callum flew back. She stared at him with glee.
‘Not this time, Brenner!’ she hissed. ‘
Not this time!
I’m finally getting rid of you for good. You and all your smart-alec friends!’ She turned to Ceri. ‘Five children playing unsupervised in a storm shelter during Weekend Curfew, with one Home-Time Partner left outside by herself … how many Storm Laws do you think
that
breaks, Miss Smarty Pants?’
Ceri gulped. ‘Loads, probably.’
Miss Pewlish grinned. ‘Correct! Enough to get every single one of you a personal meeting with the Warden, that’s how many!’
We looked at each other. There was no doubt what was going to happen now. The truth would come out, one way or another. They would find out what we were planning to do. It was all over. Miss Pewlish cackled manically.
‘Thought you could get one past “mad old Victoria Pewlish”, did you?’ she seethed. ‘Because she’s just a big joke to everyone? Because no one understands her? Because her pioneering vision of a valley-widechild-safety system is “unstable”? Ha! Well then, who’s “unstable” now?’
We glanced at each other. None of us had the faintest idea what Miss Pewlish was talking about. It sounded like she was going mad.
‘Well, you can’t argue your way out of this one!’ she shrieked. ‘You’re going down! You’d need a flipping
miracle
to …’
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The sound filled the shelter as if from nowhere, high and piercing and distant. Miss Pewlish looked around frantically.
‘What is that?’ she snapped. ‘What’s going on?’
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The sound rang on, humming through the air and beating off the metal walls. We winced. It seemed almost to wind through the air and burrow into our ears.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Miss Pewlish suddenly looked up, as if stung. Her face slowly drained of colour.
‘Oh no,’ she said